


Close Encounters With Mars

by FrameofMind



Category: KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrameofMind/pseuds/FrameofMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two singers walk into a concert, and one of them says to the other…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Encounters With Mars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [b_akakame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_akakame/gifts).



> Title: Close Encounters With Mars  
> Pairing: Akame  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Word Count: ~10,300  
> Warnings: None  
> Author’s Notes: To my recipient—hope you enjoy!  
> Summary: Two singers walk into a concert, and one of them says to the other…

**Close Encounters With Mars**  
  
“Hey.”  
  
There’s chatter echoing all around him in the stands, excited voices and warm-up music playing over the sound system, a little haze of manufactured smoke in the air from up on the stage, but somehow that one voice still sticks out. He’s not even shouting, though Kame wonders how the hell he got so close without his even noticing. Maybe it’s because he’s been concentrating on keeping a low profile, and that usually serves to repel unwanted attention from strangers.  
  
It doesn’t work as well on non-strangers, apparently.  
  
“Hi,” he says, pulling off the sunglasses and darting a little around as Jin squeezes between the rows of seats to stand beside him. One or two people seem to be watching them with interest, but nobody is screaming or fainting, so that’s good news. “How have you been?”  
  
“I’m good,” Jin says, nodding and hunching his shoulders a little as he slides his hands into his pockets. He looks a bit relieved that Kame is speaking pleasantly to him, but really, what did he expect? This is hardly the place for a scene. It’s hardly the place for a conversation either—but then Kame knows he hasn’t left many other options.  
  
“I left the agency,” Jin adds, and Kame bites his tongue. Not the time for that either. Instead he just nods.  
  
“I heard. It was in the papers.”  
  
“Oh. Right. Of course.”  
  
“I’m happy for you,” Kame adds, though he feels it comes out a bit false. The knowing look Jin gives him confirms it. “It’s very brave.”  
  
 _And very stupid._  
  
There’s an amused little twitch at the corner of Jin’s mouth at that. But out loud he just nods and accepts the praise at face value.  
  
“Thanks. Hey, listen—”  
  
Jin and the music are interrupted by a booming voice making an announcement in English. It’s too fast for Kame to catch anything but “Bruno Mars,” but Jin joins the half of the crowd who can understand it in cheering loudly when it finishes, clapping hands above his head. When the next voice repeats the announcement in Japanese, asking people to find their seats for the beginning of the concert, Kame joins the applause politely, not really wanting to attract more attention than necessary while the house lights are still up.  
  
There’s a tug at his sleeve, and Jin has leaned in close, lowering his voice amidst the increasingly noisy crowd.  
  
“We’re going out after—the usual place. You should join us.”  
  
Kame shakes his head automatically. “I really have to—”  
  
“Please?” Jin says, and the sincerity catches Kame’s eye before he can look away. Damn him. “It’s been ages. I really want to hang out with you.”  
  
Kame presses his lips together. He does have stuff to do tomorrow, though it’s not exactly early—but he wasn’t planning on an all-night drinking session, which is what these things often seem to turn into. And he definitely wasn’t planning on an all-night Jin session either. (Which is the other thing they sometimes turn into.)  
  
“We’ll see,” Kame says, already kicking himself for being so spineless. “Maybe.”  
  
Jin grins. “You have to, okay?” he insists, giving his sleeve another little imploring tug. “Seriously, you have to come.”  
  
“We’ll see,” Kame emphasizes. But even as Jin squeezes his way back out of the row and runs off to find his own seat, and the house lights descend to rising applause, Kame knows he’s going.  
  
~      ~      ~  
  
Everyone is already well on the way to drunkenness by the time Kame gets there.  
  
He takes off his sunglasses again as he’s ushered into the VIP room at the back, which is almost noisier than the main room of the club at this point. Kame took the long route out of the arena, trying to avoid overly crowded corridors, and it took him ages to hail a cab, so the others have probably been here for half an hour or so by now. He doesn’t think even all of them were at the concert—Yamapi he knows for a fact had a late meeting, but there he is in the noisiest corner with Jin and three guys whose names Kame can’t remember (though he’s pretty sure he’s met at least two of them, years ago) playing beer pong.  
  
“Can I get you something, Kamenashi-san?” the bartender says, friendly and professional.  
  
“Vodka tonic.”  
  
“Of course, sir. Right away.”  
  
This is not his scene. Jin likes noisy bars; Kame likes quiet ones, where you can carry on a conversation without straining your voice. It’s a little better here than in some places, but they still pump the music in pretty loud, and the little dance floor over in the corner by the pinball machines is full of people bumping and grinding along with it. Kame used to try to take Jin to his kind of places sometimes—it was only fair—but Jin always seemed to clam up when it was too quiet, like he was afraid of being spotted if he talked too loudly. Kame eventually gave up.  
  
“Hey!” Jin throws an arm around Kame’s shoulders, and by the smell of things he’s been losing pretty badly at the beer pong. “You’re late, god, what took you so long? Get over here, you’re on my team.”  
  
“Thanks,” Kame says, shrugging Jin’s arm off with some difficulty and shaking his bangs out of his face, “but I think I’ll sit this one out. You go have fun.”  
  
“What? No, come on, you have to play.”  
  
“I really don’t want to.”  
  
“But you  _have_  to,” Jin tugs on his arm. “We’ve been waiting for ages.”  
  
“You haven’t been waiting,” Kame points out. “You’ve drunk half the table already.”  
  
Jin purses his lips like he’s trying to think of a way out of that one. When he doesn’t, he just shakes his head and pulls again. “Whatever. Come play.”  
  
“No,” Kame says, twisting his arm out of Jin’s grip and taking a seat at the bar. “Really. I just want to sit and have a drink right now.”  
  
Jin narrows eyes at him like Kame has just sent him to bed without dessert. “Fine. Whatever.” Then he slinks back to the beer pong and Kame goes back to his drink, resting his back against the edge of the bar and observing the room.  
  
Well. Jin, mostly.  
  
The jeans are still oversized and the white t-shirt droops over it, but the look isn’t as exaggerated as it would have been a couple of years ago, like he had something to prove. Or something to hide. He looks sort of thin, actually. Maybe that’s fatherhood—not so much time to go to the gym and try to buff-up anymore. Or maybe just no good reason to.  
  
Stupid. Whatever, Jin’s business. Not Kame’s business.  
  
When he catches himself watching the way Jin’s shoulders move under the t-shirt when he leans across the table to catch the errant ping pong ball, he shifts around in his chair and takes a sip of his drink and tries to make out what language the little cluster of gaijin next to him are speaking. It takes him a while to realize they’re speaking a mish-mash of at least three.  
  
Yamapi comes over after the beer pong game ends in a flurry of cheers and bro-hugs. He doesn’t stop long—just long enough to say hi, has to get home to his girlfriend before she sends the cops out after him. They promise to do lunch sometime in the next couple of weeks, which probably really means a month and a half from now, and then Kame watches him grab his coat from the coat check and head out the door. When he turns back, Jin has been dragged out to the dance floor by a couple of women that Kame is pretty sure are some of his backdancers, and he’s swaying slightly drunkenly to a heavy beat.  
  
Oh, sure, Yamapi gets to leave when he likes without any complaint. Maybe it’s only the guys with stuff to go home to who get that special privilege. Jin would sympathize, after all. But not good old Kame, he’s got no one. Just his work.  
  
He doesn’t actually notice that he’s staring at Jin again until “Locked Out of Heaven” comes on and all the concertgoers in the room cheer, and Jin’s hips start moving faster to match the new rhythm. Kame downs the rest of the drink in his hand.  
  
Right. He officially hates this song.  
  
Kame is just starting his second drink when Jin comes back. He stumbles against Kame’s side a bit as he leans elbows on the bar, his hair sticking to the sides of his face a little and his breath coming hard from all the dancing Kame has not been watching.  
  
“Hey,” Jin pants, “come play darts with me.”  
  
“Jin…”  
  
“Come on, I let you have a drink. Now come play with me.”  
  
Kame shrugs off Jin’s hand, which is tugging at his sleeve again. “Jin, will you lay off already? God, you’re so annoying.”  
  
Jin sobers. Kame takes a sip of his drink and ignores him, hoping he’ll take the hint and just go away.  
  
“Why are you being a dick?”  
  
No such luck.  
  
“Excuse me?” Kame says.  
  
But Jin is evidently pissed now, stuffing his hands in his pockets and bunching his shoulders and glaring down at him, all the booziness gone except for a little bit of a blur in the way he blinks. “You haven’t answered any of my calls or messages in months. I know you’re busy, but you’re not that busy.”  
  
“Right,” Kame says, carefully keeping his cool. “I forgot. The world revolves around you.”  
  
“See?” Jin accuses, pointing at Kame’s nose so forcefully Kame almost flinches away. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. Seriously, what is your problem?”  
  
“What is  _my_  problem?” Kame says, incredulous. “You know, usually when somebody sends a thousand messages to somebody else, and the somebody else doesn’t answer any of them, the somebody might sort of eventually take that as a hint.”  
  
Jin blinks. “You’ve been avoiding me? On  _purpose_? Why?”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kame grits out, and he turns toward the bar to take another sip of his drink.  
  
He’s just barely pulled the glass away from his mouth when Jin suddenly reaches around him and takes it out of his hand, and Kame nearly chokes in his indignation. “What do you think you’re—”  
  
Jin sets the glass down on the bar and drags Kame off the stool—which nearly sends them both toppling to the floor, because Kame’s balance is a bit worse off than it was when he sat down, and Jin’s isn’t much better. “We’re going to play darts,” he says, marching Kame through the crowd.  
  
“But I don’t want to play—”  
  
“If you really didn’t want to talk to me, then you wouldn’t be here right now,” Jin points out, and Kame snaps his jaw shut.  
  
Because Jin kind of has a point, and he really hates saying that, so he won’t.  
  
“What do the darts have to do with anything?” he mutters instead, pointing at the board.  
  
“We play one on one,” Jin says, handing Kame the blue set of darts and keeping the red one for himself. “If I win, you have to tell me what the fuck crawled up your ass and died.”  
  
Kame narrows his eyes, making no moves to open the darts case. “And if I win?”  
  
“I don’t know. You get to ask me something, I guess.”  
  
Kame nods thoughtfully. “And if I refuse to play?”  
  
Jin closes one eye and lets loose a practice shot, which sticks into the lower left-hand quadrant of the board. “I badger you until you tell me anyway.”  
  
Kame sighs. He’ll do it, too. Jerkface.  
  
He plunks the blue darts case down on top of one of the high-top tables nearby and snaps it open, pulling out the first dart. “This is stupid,” he grumbles, and Jin is already grinning like a maniac, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I get a practice shot too?” Kame asks, shooting him a glare.  
  
Jin indicates the board with a flourish. “Be my guest. Won’t do you any good.”  
  
Kame tells him to go fuck himself, and Jin just claps his hands together gleefully. Kame keeps both eyes open when he throws and carefully aims for the bullseye, but the dart hits somewhere in the lower right-hand quadrant, just barely sticking in at a precarious angle.  
  
“All warmed up, Kamenashi?” Jin asks as they retrieve their darts from the board and Jin resets the scorekeeper to start them both at 501.  
  
“Shut up, Akanishi.”  
  
“You go first.”  
  
It doesn’t take all that many throws for them both to remember that a) they are drunk, and b) they absolutely suck at this even when they’re sober. Of Kame’s first three darts, only one actually stays in the board, and it’s the only one that hits a non-scoring area. Jin’s smug hoots and howls promptly bite him in the ass when all three of his darts end up stuck into the wall around the board.  
  
By round six, they’re both still at 501, the taunts and jibes have given way to piteous moans and helpless laughter, and they’ve gathered a crowd who have turned their mutual ineptitude into a drinking game—anytime a dart misses the board completely, they all do a shot. Two people have already passed out.  
  
“AAAAaaahhh!” Jin howls as one of his darts pings the triple-score ring and bounces across the floor. He drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands. “I hate this stupid game…”  
  
Kame crouches down and pats him clumsily on the shoulder, taking a sip from his vodka tonic (which he retrieved from the bar somewhere during round four). “It was your idea.”  
  
“Why didn’t you talk me out of it?”  
  
“When was the last time you let me talk you out of anything?”  
  
Jin rolls to his side, curling up in the fetal position. Blinks up at Kame.  
  
“Fair point.”  
  
“First point of any kind since we started the game.”  
  
“Call it a draw?” Jin suggests.  
  
“Unless we’re planning to live here forever, I think we’re going to have to.”  
  
Jin grins and snickers into his arm.  
  
“Can you stand up, or do you need me to help you?”  
  
Jin just sticks out his hand in answer, so Kame shifts up a bit and locks wrists with him, dragging him unsteadily to his feet and trying not to spill his drink in the process. He almost manages it too, until Jin sways against him at the last minute and jars a little splash of vodka over Kame’s fingers.  
  
“Crap. Do you have a napkin?”  
  
“Don’t think so,” Jin says, blinking around them. “There’s towels in the bathroom though, come on.” And he shifts his grip on Kame’s wrist and leads him over toward the hallway at the back, Kame just managing to set his drink down before they push through the dispersing crowd of drunken spectators.  
  
The VIP bathrooms are really nice for a club, with fancy soaps and little rolled up cloth towels in baskets and everything. Kame rinses his hands in the sink and dries them off with one of the towels, dropping it in the empty basket on the way back to the door. When he gets back out into the dim hallway, he barely makes it two steps before something stumbles into him, and then he’s pressed up against the wall with Jin’s hands on his hips, Jin’s mouth nibbling clumsily behind his ear, and Kame can’t quite decide whether to sigh and push him off or just…enjoy it.  
  
It’s been a while.  
  
His body makes the decision before his brain does. As if by muscle memory his hands find their way into Jin’s hair, and he sort of tilts his head in a little—and there’s Jin’s mouth to meet him, warm and soft, a familiar flavor of stale tobacco and chewing gum and an odd combination of alcoholic drinks. Maybe Kame’s had a bit too much himself by now, because he ought to be nipping this in the bud for all sorts of reasons that he’s having a little bit of trouble remembering at the moment. But he doesn’t, and he doesn’t want to, and Jin shifts a little closer against him, his breath puffing over Kame’s cheeks between kisses, and Kame doesn’t stop that either.  
  
When Jin trails kisses down the side of Kame’s neck, Kame arches into it just a little and closes his eyes with a sigh.  
  
“I need to get out of here,” he murmurs.  
  
“Good idea.”  
  
His fingers grip Jin’s hair for just a moment, and he plants one last firm peck on Jin’s lips.  
  
“You’re not coming with me,” Kame says with a rueful little pat on Jin’s shoulder. Then he squirms and ducks out from between Jin’s arms, walking back toward the main room.  
  
“I am so,” Jin argues when he catches up to Kame by the coat check.  
  
Kame hands his number tag to the man behind the counter. “Are not.”  
  
“Am.”  
  
“Not.” The coat check guy hands Kame his leather jacket, and Kame shrugs it on. Jin tries to subtly block his way to the door when Kame takes a step toward it, but Kame just gives him a look and ducks around him again.  
  
“Kame…” Jin whines.  
  
“Jin…” Kame parrots back as he sways down the steps to the back exit. It’s easier than braving the trip to the front entrance of the club, especially if Jin insists on dogging his heels.  
  
It’s unseasonably chilly out when they reach the sidewalk, and Kame sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugging down into his leather coat a little as the breeze picks up. Jin takes the opportunity to latch onto Kame’s elbow and rest his chin against Kame’s shoulder so heavily his weight nearly steers them into a parking meter.  
  
“Take me home, Kame,” Jin implores.  
  
“I don’t know where you live.”  
  
“Not my home—your home.”  
  
“Jin, you’re making an ass of yourself.”  
  
Jin smirks and nuzzles at his neck again. “I thought you were into that kind of thing.”  
  
Kame just snorts. “You’re worse than Taguchi.”  
  
“Thanks,” Jin replies cheekily—but then he stops suddenly and pulls away with a frown. “Wait—at punning, or fucking?”  
  
Kame just rolls eyes at him and keeps walking down the sidewalk.  
  
“Oi. Kame.” Kame ignores him. “Kaaame!” Jin shouts, tackling him from behind so they both sort of stumble around in a circle and nearly fall over—and Kame really shouldn’t be laughing like this because he’s actually quite pissed off. In principle.  
  
Must be the vodka.  
  
“Shhh,” he hisses. “You’re loud, idiot. You might not be worried about who sees you anymore, but some of us still have bosses to answer to, remember?”  
  
“Stop whining.”  
  
“Ouch—that was my foot.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“Can you stop hanging off my shoulders already? You’re strangling me.”  
  
“Let’s get a cab.”  
  
“But it’s only like fifteen blocks.”  
  
Jin has the weight advantage, however, and is now running out into traffic with Kame’s elbow still in his grip. Kame manages to snag him by the collar and pull him back before he takes one step too far into the path of the cab that’s stopping for them. Jin nudges Kame toward the backseat, and Kame gives in, scooting over so Jin can follow him. Jin gives the address without a hitch, and then slumps back against the seat as they pull away from the curb. When Jin’s hand starts creeping toward his thigh, Kame swats it away with a warning look and a subtle nod toward the driver. Jin winces an apology.  
  
Once he’s satisfied that Jin will keep his hands to himself for a little while, Kame slumps against the door on his side, staring out at the lights sliding past his window. The intermittent glow is pleasant and familiar, and a little bit hypnotizing, Tokyo at midnight buzzing in time to the vodka in his veins. Bruno Mars croons “Moonshine” quietly from the radio on the dash, and somewhere along the way Kame catches himself tapping fingertips against the upholstery.  
  
Jin is on him again by the time they get upstairs though—not that Kame invited him, exactly, but he’s stopped trying to stop him from inviting himself—and he’s trying to pull Kame’s leather jacket off him while Kame is still messing with his boots.  
  
“Just wait a minute, will you?”  
  
“You’re slow,” Jin complains.  
  
“I need a shower.”  
  
“You don’t need a shower.”  
  
“I’ve been working all day.”  
  
“So? I’ve been parenting all day, who cares. You don’t need a shower.”  
  
Kame swats Jin’s roaming hands away from where they’re groping at his sides and heads for the bathroom, but Jin keeps up with him all the way.  
  
“Are you an octopus now?” Kame complains as Jin’s hands slide up under his shirt while Kame is turning on the water.  
  
“Months, Kame,” Jin argues, kissing and nibbling rather distracting warmth into the crook of Kame’s neck. “You’ve been ignoring me for  _months_.”  
  
“You need to learn a little patience.”  
  
“And you need to learn to  _share_.”  
  
“I—” but Kame squirms with involuntary laughter when Jin pinches him in the side, and suddenly between the fuzzy bathmat underfoot and Jin’s leg in the way they sort of trip each other up and stumble forward. Kame tries to grab the shower door on the way down, but his hand-eye coordination isn’t what it ought to be right now, and before he can even shift to catch himself properly they land hard in an awkward pile on the floor of the shower. Kame gasps and spits out a surprise mouthful of water, swiping his hair out of his eyes and turning his face away from the stream so he can breathe. He can feel Jin’s giggles against his stomach where he’s tangled half on top of him, coughing out some water as well.  
  
“This is not funny,” Kame says, glaring up at him—but it’s getting harder to keep a straight face now that Jin is trying to untangle himself from Kame’s legs without kneeing him in the balls or falling on top of him again.  
  
“You okay?” Jin chuckles.  
  
“ _No_ , I’m not okay—I’m soaking wet and I’m wearing 800,000 yen vintage jeans.”  
  
Jin’s smile lights up from amid dark messy curls dripping water on Kame’s face. “You and your vintage jeans. Don’t you own any normal pants?”  
  
“Why would I need normal pants? In case a drunken lunatic pushes me into my shower with my clothes on?”  
  
“Hey, shit happens. You should take them off.”  
  
“I  _meant_  to.”  
  
“Well. Better late than never?”  
  
“Jin—ah!” Kame twitches and squirms again with laughter, hitting Jin in the shoulder as Jin pokes him in the sides again on the pretext of “helping” him with his jeans. “Jin, stop—you’re such a bast—”  
  
But Jin swallows the insult with a watery kiss, his tickling fingers leaving Kame’s waist alone to tug at the button in earnest, and then the wet fly. Kame laughs against his mouth when the zipper gets stuck, everything either too slippery or too stiff in the deluge from above. Jin bites Kame’s lip as punishment and his hand gives up on the zipper, taking the shortcut into Kame’s pants instead. Kame breathes in and arches into the touch, warm water and Jin filling up his mouth.  
  
He’s pulling at Jin’s t-shirt now too, but it sticks to Jin’s skin, everything is so heavy—but it’s nice too, somehow. The water everywhere, Jin everywhere. Even though there’s really not enough room for them to do what they’re doing in this small shower stall, and Kame bumps his head on the tile while Jin sort of falls on top of him as he’s trying to peel his own jeans off.  
  
When Jin ends up stuck with his pants around his ankles laughing helplessly into Kame’s stomach, he finally gives up. Kame grins and runs his fingers through the dark wet curls as Jin sags against him, not-quite-half-undressed.  
  
“This isn’t working,” Jin admits.  
  
“You think?”  
  
“The shower was your idea,” Jin points out, and Kame rolls eyes at him, pushing at his shoulders until Jin climbs off him. Maneuvering is difficult, and they’re both sort of half bumping against each other, half leaning on each other as they try to stand up. Once they find their way back to their feet, Kame reaches around and turns off the water, leaving them both standing there in a dripping and disheveled mess. Jin gives him an innocent look, his overstretched t-shirt just barely preserving his modesty despite his pants being piled around his feet. Kame snorts a laugh.  
  
“Miss me?” Jin asks.  
  
Kame reaches out and pushes Jin’s messy bangs out of his eyes, brushing them back over the crown of his head until he can see him properly.  
  
 _God yes…_  
  
He steps in close and traps Jin against the wall with a slow, deep kiss. He can feel Jin’s smile against his lips, soft and sweet and uncomplicated, and maybe…maybe he can admit that Jin has the right idea. For once.  
  
Not out loud, obviously.  
  
Jin’s hips push back against his with a little shiver of breath, and Jin’s hands are working their way up his back, pushing wet fabric with them. It’s easier now that they’re not on the floor and not still getting drenched, and he leans back just far enough to let Jin tug everything off over his head, the clump of flannel and cotton landing behind them somewhere with a wet plop. Jin’s t-shirt comes even easier because it’s so huge, and as soon as they’re together again Jin’s hands are squeezing the back of his jeans, pulling Kame close and enjoying the friction. Kame watches him bite his lip and drop his head back just a little, and he takes it as an invitation to chase a few water droplets down the side of Jin’s neck. Jin murmurs his approval, and that tight roll of his hips against Kame’s increasingly tight jeans has him shivering back just a little.  
  
Suddenly there’s a hiss, and Kame jumps as a burst of warm water hits him in the back. Glancing around, he finds Jin has sneaked a hand over and turned the shower back on.  
  
“Getting cold?” he surmises, leaning in for another kiss.  
  
“Not exactly,” Jin mumbles, and steps out of the wet lump of denim tangled around his feet to push Kame backwards until they’re both under the stream. “I just like it when you’re wet.”  
  
Kame laughs and tangles his fingers in Jin’s hair, resuming his journey down the side of Jin’s neck.  
  
Jin’s hand is between them again, pulling the zipper the rest of the way down, and Kame drags in a breath against Jin’s skin when Jin’s hand finds him again and it’s just…so right, he knows exactly how, and Kame kisses him again to keep from letting out an embarrassing groan. His jeans and underwear are halfway down his hips now, and he can feel Jin there against his skin too, and it all sticks and slides from the water, and Kame can’t remember the last time so much nothing-in-particular felt this good.  
  
“What do you want?” he breathes into Jin’s mouth.  
  
“You,” Jin says, and Kame bites his lip against the moan when Jin holds him tighter.  
  
“How do you want me?”  
  
“I just want you. However you want it.”  
  
“I’m up for anything.”  
  
Jin runs his tongue along the inside of Kame’s lower lip, and then kisses his chin, breathing a little heavily.  
  
“Fuck me then,” Jin whispers.  
  
Kame looks up at him, a little surprised. Jin’s eyes are lowered, and Kame can’t tell whether the flush is just from the shower, or from the request.  
  
They used to do it like that all the time, years ago. Before things got more complicated. Before Jin decided it made him uncomfortable. Before…a lot of things. Kame never minded when they stopped—he’s always been flexible, and it wasn’t like it was something he needed, or like Jin didn’t give back in other ways—and he certainly didn’t have any interest in taking something Jin didn’t want to give just for the sake of some notion of fairness. It didn’t matter.  
  
Still. He remembers those early days when the secrets were fun and seemed only playfully dangerous. Remembers that one time in Sendai, when they kept themselves locked in their hotel room until noon, stifling each other’s laughter whenever somebody knocked on the door to remind them of rehearsals at three, and Jin complained vaguely of soreness for a week afterwards just to fluster Kame, reminding him of things he shouldn’t be thinking of in public. (It worked well enough, but it also usually backfired.) And Kame feels a deep tingle of energy and want underneath his skin at the thought of having Jin like that again.  
  
“You’re sure you want to?”  
  
Jin nods. “If it’s okay for you.”  
  
“It’s totally okay,” Kame murmurs, kissing warm skin. “It’s more than okay.”  
  
“Awesome,” Jin shudders, and kisses him deeply again. And when Kame flicks his tongue lightly against Jin’s, this time it feels like a promise.  
  
They lose themselves in the warmth for a little while longer before Kame starts to get his head together. Thinks through the plan a little more thoroughly and realizes there are other things that are inconvenient about the shower.  
  
“Hang on,” he mumbles, blinking eyes open again. “I have to go get a—”  
  
“In my pants,” Jin interrupts, and Kame frowns at him briefly before he’s able to make sense of that. “In the pocket, there’s a—I have one.”  
  
There’s definitely a flush there now, and a grin breaks over Kame’s face, because he’s just…so adorable. And  _so easy_. It makes Kame itch to tease him.  
  
“You did plan this, didn’t you.”  
  
Jin shakes his head, Kame’s going with it because their foreheads are still pressed together. “I swear I didn’t. Just got lucky.”  
  
Kame chuckles and ducks in for another little kiss. “Which pocket?”  
  
“Right front.”  
  
Jin watches him as he steps back a little and finally gets rid of his sodden jeans. He pulls Kame back in once more, just long enough to make them both a little breathless, and then he lets go and turns around to make himself comfortable with his elbows against the tile. Kame kneels next to him and digs through the tangled lump of Jin’s pants until he finds what he needs. As he tears the foil open with his teeth, he steals a glance at Jin’s long legs, shifting a little underneath him, feet set apart.  
  
When he’s ready, Kame comes up close behind him, kissing the back of Jin’s shoulder and brushing over his arms just to make sure Jin is really up for this—that he’s relaxed, not frozen. The muscles shift a little underneath his hands, but Jin cozies back into his chest in an encouraging fashion, and Kame takes that as the confirmation he needs.  
  
He reaches for the conditioner bottle, using his body to shield them from the stream while he coats his fingers, and then he’s close again, the kisses turning to distraction as he slips inside him to get a stretch. Jin’s breath hitches a little at the first intrusion—but then a relieved sort of smile spreads across his face and he tilts his head back beside Kame’s, relaxing into Kame’s weight more and more by the second.  
  
“I forgot,” Jin breathes—and there’s a little half-gasp when Kame brushes past the right spot.  
  
“Forgot what?” Kame mouths into the side of his throat.  
  
“How good it is with you. Like this.”  
  
Kame smiles against his skin. “Glad to hear it.”  
  
There are things Kame has forgotten too—like how good Jin feels when he gives himself over like this, the little protections that are just habit now finally slipping away and leaving him naked in every sense. Kame remembers times when he would make Jin come with only this, and when he brushes the spot again and Jin bucks into his touch, for a moment he’s tempted to do just that, his own need be damned.  
  
“Do it,” Jin urges, angling his hips and letting his head sink against his forearms. “I’m ready now. You can do it.”  
  
Kame sucks long and hard at his pulse point before sliding his fingers out.  
  
More conditioner, and he sticks close because of the water, drops the bottle on top of Jin’s discarded jeans so he won’t have to reach back—and then he’s sliding in, gripping Jin’s hips tightly to keep them steady and keep himself from slipping to fast or too far. It’s tight—god it’s tight, but he knows how to be careful. And Jin’s breath stays relaxed, even if his lip slides between his teeth once, when it gets deep.  
  
The first few thrusts are cautious ones, one hand on Jin’s belly and his mouth against Jin’s shoulder to feel as much of him as he can. When Jin groans into his arms, it doesn’t sound like pain—and when Kame takes up the pace a little, Jin lets out a hot little moan and starts shifting back to meet him, finding the rhythm.  
  
“You feel amazing,” Kame murmurs into his skin, smiling when the shiver echoes through both of them, and Jin lets out the next breath on Kame’s name.  
  
He focuses his attention on angle and speed, playing around gently until he finds it—that choked sob that tells him he’s got it right. He holds Jin close and slides one hand down his belly until he has him in hand as well, matching his strokes to the thrusts inside him, and soon Jin is melting against the tile, barely moving himself now except to mumble little entreaties and try to keep his breath.  
  
He buries his face in the wet curls at the back of Jin’s neck when Jin comes over his hand, the ripple of muscle taking him almost to the edge himself. Ostensibly it’s Jin who needs a breather, but Kame finds himself matching Jin’s inhales just to keep his balance.  
  
When Jin covers Kame’s hand on his chest with his own and shifts his hips again to tell Kame it’s okay, Kame leans into the invitation and wraps his other arm around Jin’s waist, trying to feel as much of him as possible, swirling his tongue over the knob at the top of his spine until it all rushes through him, hard and hot and good…so, so good. Always good, with Jin.  
  
Jin’s stomach is nearly flat against the wall by now, his arms no longer willing to support him, and they’re both just there, breathing against each other underneath the steady stream. When Kame feels reasonably certain that their legs will hold them up, he peels himself off of Jin and gets rid of the condom. By the time he’s finished Jin has turned around again and he pulls Kame close, his kisses lazy and sated and warm…and not the least bit regretful. Kame sways against him, buries fingers in his shorter hair and lets it all just…settle.  
  
“That was amazing,” Jin murmurs against his lips, his voice slightly hoarse.  
  
“You too,” Kame agrees, and Jin runs his hand up Kame’s arm to flick a lock of short dark hair away from Kame’s cheek.  
  
“It’s even better with the water,” Jin grins muzzily. “The shower was a very good idea.”  
  
~      ~      ~  
  
“The shower was a  _very bad idea_ ,” Jin moans, slumping forward over the dining table with his head on his arms and a stack of folded wet bills in his hand.  
  
Kame pats him on the shoulder sympathetically as Jin pushes himself back up and resumes painstakingly unsticking the sodden 10,000 yen notes from one another and laying them out on the bath towel in front of him, next to a collection of random business cards and shopping lists which were also in his wallet. (Kame’s wallet was in his jacket pocket because he paid for the cab, so it remained safe and dry on the floor of the genkan. Sometimes it pays to be generous.)  
  
“Serves you right,” Kame says with a sip from his water glass.  
  
“Shut up,” Jin grumbles, carefully picking another corner loose with his thumbnail.  
  
It’s too late at night to run the dryer, so they’ve had to leave their clothes spread out over every towel rack and curtain rod that can be spared. Kame’s shirt is merely damp and a little wrinkled by now—it’ll be fine by morning. The vintage jeans are maybe a little bit more “vintage” than before, and he thinks one of the artful holes above the knee has widened by about a centimeter—but he finds he can’t bring himself to care all that much.  
  
He’s is in the bedroom with his hair dried leafing through a script by the time Jin finishes dealing with the wallet catastrophe. Kame glances up from a fistfight in a vegetable market when Jin comes through the door and collapses face-first onto the empty half of the bed. He’s wearing borrowed sweatpants that are a little too tight on him, but Kame’s not inclined to complain about the view. Especially since they read “KAME” in sparkly gold letters across the butt.  
  
(They were a gag gift from Koki two birthdays ago. Beggars can’t be choosers.)  
  
“All done?” Kame asks, flipping the script closed on his knees.  
  
Jin nods into the comforter. “Money is very sticky when wet,” he mumbles sagely.  
  
Kame grins and reaches over to flick a dark lock of hair away from Jin’s eyes. “Words to live by. Do you want a drink?”  
  
Jin shakes his head, still not taking his face out of the comforter. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”  
  
“What was your first clue? Ow!” he laughs and kicks away Jin’s hand, which reached out to pinch his ankle.  
  
Jin props himself up and grabs onto the ankle this time, giving a firm tug to drag Kame down to his level so he can attack him properly. The script tumbles to the floor somewhere, vegetables and fistfights easily forgotten in favor of another kind of wrestling match.  
  
Jin’s hair is damp in his fingers, and his skin feels a little clammy from the cool air. Kame runs a hand down the length of his spine, rubbing a little to warm him up. Jin gives an appreciative hum when Kame’s fingertips brush the waist of the sweatpants, and he tilts his head to push deeper into Kame’s mouth. Kame feels the strong flick of Jin’s tongue against his all the way down to his toes.  
  
“God, I miss you,” Jin murmurs into Kame’s mouth. And Kame just breathes it in, waving thoughts away—because he’s decided, tonight is for feeling. Feeling Jin warming underneath his hands, breathing against his lips, pushing against his hips again, just a little.  
  
Tomorrow can be for thinking.  
  
“Remember that thing we used to do?” Jin murmurs as he trails warm kisses down the side of Kame’s neck.  
  
“Hmm, what thing?” Kame mumbles back with a little frown, because Jin seems to require a little bit of thinking from him after all. So demanding.  
  
“The thing.” His breath is hot against Kame’s earlobe. “With the stuff.”  
  
Kame laughs. “Jin, I am not washing whipped cream and chocolate out of my sheets again. Twice was enough.”  
  
“Stingy.”  
  
“You can have dessert if you want. Just not during sex.”  
  
Jin gives a petulant little snarl and burrows into Kame’s shoulder, nibbling on him instead in a way that sends pleasant little shivers curling down Kame’s spine.  
  
It’s so good. Jin feels so good, always. And even as his body is coming alive again under Jin’s touch, a counterweight is settling in the pit of Kame’s stomach.  
  
Because the thing is, it never lasts.  
  
Thinking. It always leads to trouble.  
  
Kame’s hands get drowsy and distracted running through Jin’s hair, and Kame closes his eyes and tries to push it away again, tries to just feel Jin and not feel anything else. But his skin is cooling now, and his mind is moving no matter how he tries to make it stop.  
  
Eventually, Jin notices.  
  
“Hey,” he says, pulling back just a little and then nuzzling at Kame’s chin. “You okay?”  
  
Kame draws his eyes up over Jin’s throat, over lips so soft and kissable and eyes that are hazy and alluring even when they’re looking concerned. Maybe because they’re looking concerned. He sweeps Jin’s bangs away from his forehead again so he can see them better, at least for a moment, and then he needs another moment to find his voice. Because Jin is really beautiful above him like that—he always has been, and Kame would probably still find him so if they were ninety and hunchbacked and covered in wrinkles from head to toe. And it’s hard to think of rational things when he’s thinking like that.  
  
He lets the bangs fall away from his fingers again.  
  
“Are we really starting this again?” he murmurs.  
  
Jin blinks and frowns down at him. “Too soon? I thought you usually—”  
  
“Not that,” Kame grumbles, kicking Jin lightly in the shin with his toe. “I mean this whole thing. You and me.”  
  
Now Jin’s frown has a note of stung surprise in it, which—really.  
  
Just… _really_.  
  
“Did we ever actually stop?”  
  
Kame gives him a flat look. “You got married and had a kid. I think most people would consider that a pretty clear end to a relationship.”  
  
Jin hesitates.  
  
“Did you?”  
  
“Did I what?”  
  
“Think stuff was over. With us.”  
  
Kame looks away, plucking at a wrinkle in the sleeve of Jin’s t-shirt. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Hey,” Jin says, squeezing Kame’s shoulders a little like he’d be trying to shake him gently out of his glum mood if he didn’t need his elbows to hold him up. “You know what happened with that. We weren’t—we’re just raising a kid together. I told you that.”  
  
Kame huffs a breath. “Yeah. You told me. After three newspapers, my manager, and a reporter in a press conference told me, you told me.”  
  
Jin squirms around and shifts his weight to the side, propping himself up on one arm so he’s not quite so much on top of Kame. “You’re blaming me for that?”  
  
“Jin,” Kame says, incredulous and frankly a bit irritated, “you were here with me the night before it all went public, and you said  _nothing_.”  
  
“I didn’t think they’d get ahold of it so soon—”  
  
“That’s not the point. You don’t—you’re not getting it. This happens every time. Every time something big happens in your life, I end up hearing about it on freaking Mezamashi.”  
  
“So—what, that’s what you’re mad about? Is that why you quit returning my calls, just because some reporter gets shit on me before you do?”  
  
“I’m not mad.”  
  
“Then what  _are_  you?”  
  
Kame looks down at where Jin’s hand is still resting on his chest, the fine hairs on his arm that are invisible except up close. When he runs a finger along them there are little goosebumps, but Jin hardly even seems to notice.  
  
“I don’t think I want to do this anymore, Jin.”  
  
Jin frowns down at him, his hand going still on Kame’s chest with just a little twitch of the fingers, like he wants to grab a handful of him somehow. “Why not?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Kame says, still running the back of his knuckles up and down Jin’s arm because he can’t look at his face. “It’s different now.”  
  
“No it’s not,” Jin insists. “Why is it different?”  
  
“It feels…wrong, I guess. Like we’re sneaking around.”  
  
“You always liked the sneaking around.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Kame concedes. “Sneaking around on management. Not on your wife.”  
  
“She’s not my wife.”  
  
Kame raises eyebrows at him.  
  
Jin gives a flustered little shake of his head. “You know what I mean. She’s totally fine with it. Look, you can call her up and ask her if you don’t believe me.”  
  
“It’s still different,” Kame mumbles.  
  
“It’s not different.”  
  
“You have a  _kid_ , Jin.”  
  
“So what?” Jin says, sounding a little bit frustrated himself now. When Kame gives him a pointed stare, Jin heaves a sigh and sits up all the way, scrubbing both hands over his face. “Alright—yes, I have a kid. I’m really happy I have a kid—I’ve always wanted a kid, and she’s perfect and adorable and I wouldn’t give her up for anything. But I’ve always wanted you too, and that’s totally separate, and  _neither_  of those things is going to change anytime soon. And I don’t see why I can’t have both.”  
  
No. He doesn’t see. And that’s exactly the problem. When it comes to what he wants, Jin is so determined, but when it comes to what anybody else wants or needs, Jin  _just doesn’t see_.  
  
“What if I wanted you all to myself?”  
  
“Parent-child jealousy? Is that what we’re talking about now?” Jin says, incredulous.  
  
“No,” Kame rolls his eyes and sits up. “Of course not, I’m not an idiot—but I’m also not her parent.”  
  
Jin looks confused. “So?”  
  
“So…this was fine when it was just you and me, and it was just…whatever. Messing around. But I’m twenty-eight years old, Jin. And you’ve got this whole… _life_  you’re building for yourself, that doesn’t involve me. And I guess I just don’t really want to spend the rest of mine as the skeleton in your closet.”  
  
Jin stares at him for another long moment. Kame just stares back, until he thinks…yeah. Maybe they’re finally on the same page.  
  
Jin looks away again and scratches at the edge of his hairline just behind his ear, a thoughtful little frown between his brows. When he drops his hands into his lap again, he looks down at them, cracking his knuckles.  
  
“What do you want then?” he asks.  
  
Kame looks down at the mattress by his knee, where the two of them touch. It’s weird how it makes him feel old and young at the same time, sitting here like this with Jin in mismatched clothing talking about their hopes and dreams. It used to be a game. Some of it even came true. And it’s different now—but it’s still Jin, and Jin’s knee, and Jin asking him what he wants. He’s just not sure he knows the answer anymore.  
  
“Something real, I guess,” he says.  
  
“What does that mean for you?”  
  
“I don’t know yet,” Kame shrugs. “I haven’t started looking for it.”  
  
Jin worms two fingers into the crook of Kame’s knee, like he’s trying to tickle him except he knows Kame isn’t ticklish there. Instead he just sort of tugs at him, asking for attention.  
  
“Can’t I be that?”  
  
Kame frowns, blinks up at him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Real,” Jin says. “For you. Can I be that?”  
  
Kame stares at him. Waiting to see if he’s joking.  
  
He’s…not joking.  
  
Suddenly the room feels very small. Kame squirms out from under Jin’s hand and scoots off the side of the bed, grabbing his water glass off the nightstand and taking a deep drink. When that doesn’t help, he drinks half of it down in one long gulp.  
  
“Kame?”  
  
Kame waves him off as he sets it down again, gasping a little from the extended holding of breath. He still doesn’t look at Jin as he turns and walks away toward the end of the bed.  
  
“Kame, where are you going?” Jin asks, a little bewildered.  
  
“I’m not going anywhere. I just…need to think.” When he reaches the dresser, he pauses to run a hand through his hair—then turns and walks back.  
  
“You can’t think sitting down?”  
  
“No.”  
  
He’s not looking at Jin, but he can still feel Jin’s eyes on him, tracking him as he paces back and forth between the dresser and the nightstand.  
  
“Are you okay?” Jin asks eventually.  
  
“I’m fine, I just…” He rounds on him, finally. “What the hell do you mean saying you want to be with me?”  
  
“ _You_  just said you wanted me all to yourself,” Jin points out, indignant.  
  
“I said ‘ _what if_ ,’ and I didn’t…I didn’t think you’d actually  _want_  to. I was trying to make a point.”  
  
“Well,” Jin fidgets and shrugs, “I guess you made it then. So do you want to be with me or not?”  
  
Yes. Of  _course_  yes. But that’s beside the point.  
  
“Since when do you want to be with me?”  
  
Jin gives a disbelieving laugh. “Since when? Since always, you moron. It wasn’t me who made rules about not getting involved and had us hiding in closets. I thought that was what you wanted.”  
  
“It was.”  
  
“Well…see?”  
  
Kame peers at him. “You’re serious about this?”  
  
“Kame—if you add it all up, I’ve been with you longer than I’ve been with all my other girlfriends combined. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a long term relationship, and that includes my wife. Did you really think I was just in it for the sex?”  
  
Kame arches an eyebrow. “All your ‘other girlfriends’?”  
  
“You know what I mean,” Jin grumbles.  
  
Kame sighs and finally sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. Then he rolls down to his back and lets his arms fall open at his sides. It actually helps with the breathing.  
  
After a few minutes of silence and staring up at the ceiling, he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and Jin leans into his field of vision.  
  
“So…I guess that’s a no then?” he says, with a little twist of his mouth. And he’s trying to play it cool, but Kame can see the disappointment. Jin’s not good at hiding.  
  
Kame sighs again.  
  
“It’s not a no, it’s just…I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly saying I wanted to run out and start something right this second, just…I wanted to have the option. And with you always around, it’s…a little bit hard to keep that option open.”  
  
“So don’t,” Jin nudges. “Be with me.”  
  
Kame looks up at him, probably a bit longingly, which usually makes him feel silly. But it doesn’t really bother him that much right now. Jin is looking back at him the very same way.  
  
“It’s all so fucking complicated,” Kame says. “Especially if it’s you and me.”  
  
Jin’s little smile remembers lectures about casual glances and standing too close and midnight conbini trips.  
  
But then, those did stop eventually. They figured out ways to make it work.  
  
“It’s always going to be complicated when you do what you do,” Jin points out. “No matter who it is. At some point you have to just be happy. And if they don’t like it…”  
  
“Drop everything and come make indie records with you?” Kame finishes wryly.  
  
“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Jin says, poking him in the ribs. “Besides, I know the CEO of the label—he’s really awesome and he thinks you’re totally hot.”  
  
Kame laughs.  
  
For a moment he even imagines it, hanging around a studio with Jin and making music together again and just…not caring. Being happy.  
  
But it dies away soon enough as he looks up at Jin again and remembers all the other things that would be waiting for them outside the studio that wouldn’t be nearly so nice. All the things that would be as complicated as ever. All the reasons it would be easier for both of them if they just stayed apart. Those lectures were never fun, but they made some good points. Even if Kame didn’t want to hear them.  
  
“You do know I can’t actually do that, right?” Kame says, looking up at Jin steadily. “I mean it. Not even for you. If we seriously try to make this work, it has to stay a secret. Indefinitely. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”  
  
Jin ruffles Kame’s bangs. “Thought you didn’t want to be the skeleton in my closet anymore?”  
  
“Jin…”  
  
“It’s fine,” Jin says, before Kame can get started on his own version of the same old lectures. “I know you can’t just leave like I did, and it’s fine. We’ll do what we have to do.”  
  
Kame strokes Jin’s arm, fingertips sliding up underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. They’ll do what they have to do. Something real with Jin. It’s finally starting to sink in a little, that this is actually happening. It’s an option he wrote off so long ago he doesn’t even remember exactly when anymore.  
  
Jin starts shifting a little on the bed again, watching Kame like he’s giving him a chance to stop him—but Kame doesn’t, and soon Jin slides down beside him on the mattress, their feet tangling together where they hang off the side.  
  
Kame is still plucking at Jin’s t-shirt sleeve as Jin’s hand settles on Kame’s stomach, fingers curling near his hip, and Kame suddenly finds himself feeling a little bit shy.  
  
“Can I meet her sometime?” Kame says quietly.  
  
Even out of the corner of his eye, he sees the grin break over Jin’s face. “Of course you can. Just don’t wear any long necklaces. Her molars are starting to come in, and she’ll eat absolutely anything that comes into grabbing range.”  
  
Kame chuckles, still not quite able to meet Jin’s eyes. “My niece was like that. She actually swallowed one of my earrings once. We had to wait for it to come out the other end.”  
  
Jin laughs loudly, rolling onto his back. “ _That_  is no fun. We had to do that with a toy fire truck.”  
  
Kame props up and looks at him, aghast. “A fire truck?”  
  
“It was a really really tiny one,” Jin grimaces.  
  
“It would have to be. Hey,” he says, something else catching up with him, “about…Meisa. You’re sure she won’t mind? Not just us, but…me being around Theia or whatever.”  
  
“I told you, it’s not a problem,” Jin says, his hand stroking lazily over Kame’s back. “I know it seems weird from the outside, but we’re really not like that. And anyway, she likes you.”  
  
Kame nods quickly. “I like her too.”  
  
“Good,” Jin smiles. And Kame leans in and kisses him, soft at first, and then slow. Jin’s fingers find their way into his hair and it sinks in a little bit further. Jin and him. For real.  
  
“Jin,” he says quietly, with one more little kiss as he settles back again, and Jin’s fingers stay sweet and lazy in his hair. “Just one more thing.”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
“If we’re really doing this—if we’re going to make this work—you need to start telling me things. The important things, before they happen. And I don’t just mean because they make stuff complicated with work, or whatever, I mean…because it’s important. Because it’s my life too. So next time you quit your job or get married or whatever, you tell me before someone else does. Okay?”  
  
Jin grins. “Only if you start returning all my calls. And messages. Even when you’re busy.”  
  
Kame narrows eyes at him. “I’ll try.”  
  
“Good. Then we have a deal.”  
  
And Jin kisses him to seal it.  
  
A little while later, when Kame settles next to him and Jin’s arms wrap more firmly around him, Jin turns toward him a little. “Anyway,” he murmurs in Kame’s ear, “I don’t think you really have to worry about that. I’m my own boss now, so there’s no job left to quit. And I’m pretty sure if I ever decide to spend the rest of my life with someone, you’ll be the first to know.”  
  
Kame bites his lip against the smile. He’s a little glad Jin can’t see his face right now.  
  
He wraps his arms around Jin’s middle and pulls him a little closer, his nose tucked against the side of Jin’s throat.  
  
“Can you stay tonight?”  
  
Jin nods, fingertips brushing the back of Kame’s neck. “I can stay as long as you want.”  
  
~      ~      ~  
  
The coffee is terrible, but Kame drinks it anyway, just to be polite. And it’s always easier to have something to occupy his hands in case a question needs thinking about.  
  
“Kamenashi-san,” the reporter says, finishing a note on her pad and glancing up at him again. “There were rumors going around recently that you were seen speaking to your former colleague, Akanishi-san, at a concert you both attended recently. Can you tell me anything about that?”  
  
Kame takes a sip of his coffee. Nods a little as he swallows.  
  
 _Jin always looks like a drunken angel when he sleeps. Those pouty lips, a bit of a flush on his cheek from the pillow, a little spot of drool crusting at the corner of his mouth. Kame watches him for probably a lot longer than any normal person should watch another guy sleep, grinning each time he snuffles and mumbles into the pillow. Eventually he turns over, kicking Kame hard in the kneecap along the way, and Kame punches him in the back in retaliation. Jin just mumbles something about subwoofers and snores a bit._  
  
“I saw him, briefly. It was just before the concert started.”  
  
“Do you remember what you talked about?”  
  
 _Kame scoots up behind Jin and slips his arms around his waist, pleased when Jin snuggles back into them a little bit. He’s really warm in the mornings, huddled deep under the comforter._  
  
 _“Morning,” Kame murmurs, pressing a light kiss just below his ear._  
  
 _Jin mumbles back something that sounds vaguely like “morning” in return._  
  
 _“Sleep well?”_  
  
 _“Still sleeping,” Jin says, and there’s a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You have to try harder if you want to wake me up.”_  
  
 _“Hmmm,” Kame says as he ponders the soft skin along the side of Jin’s throat. Then he dips his head low, brushing lips lightly and warming it with a little lick. “Something like this?”_  
  
 _Jin turns his face into the pillow, unsuccessfully hiding the smile. “Mmm…kind of…”_  
  
 _“How about this?” Kame teases, dipping down lower to mouth warmth at the base of Jin’s throat. When he brings a hand up underneath Jin’s t-shirt to circle one nipple with a fingertip, there’s a little breath and Jin stretches back against him just slightly._  
  
 _“That’s…getting closer…” Jin breathes._  
  
 _Kame kisses his way back up to Jin’s ear, fingers brushing idly upwards. He drops his voice low._  
  
 _“How about this?”_  
  
 _There’s an ear-piercing shriek, and Kame gets kicked a couple more times before Jin is cowering at the foot of the bed, tangled in the sheets. Kame falls back into the pillows, laughing._  
  
 _“I fucking hate you,” Jin accuses, dragging the comforter around his shoulders to protect his abused collarbones. He looks like a grumpy marshmallow. But he is definitely awake._  
  
 _“Even if I make you coffee?” Kame says with an innocent blink._  
  
 _Jin narrows his eyes. “And pancakes?”_  
  
 _“Done.”_  
  
 _The marshmallow flies at him and buries them both as Jin kisses grumbled curses into Kame’s skin. The pancakes will have to wait a little bit._  
  
“He told me he had left the agency, and I told him I had seen it on the news. That was pretty much the conversation.”  
  
“I see,” the reporter says, smiling through her disappointment.  
  
 _“Kame?”_  
  
 _Kame hums an acknowledgement against the rim of his coffee cup. There are two plates sticky with maple syrup on the nightstand, and it’s after noon already, but he doesn’t have to go quite yet. The stereo in the other room is still on from when Kame was cooking, and the quiet strains of “The Lazy Song” mingle with the breeze and the traffic from the open window beside the bed. Jin is lying sideways across the mattress with his head on Kame’s lap, putting his disassembled wallet back together while Kame skims the newspaper headlines. When Jin doesn’t say anything more, Kame lets the paper fall onto his knee and looks down at him. He’s still got a stack of displaced business cards sitting on the mattress beside him, but he’s fiddling with a slightly waterlogged snapshot of Theia—who either has jam all over her face, or a rather unfortunate rash._  
  
 _“Do you think it’s going to be okay?”_  
  
 _Kame is pretty sure Jin’s not asking him to diagnose the red splotches in the picture._  
  
 _Jin was so confident last night, when Kame was worrying over everything. Now that Kame feels relaxed and rested and ready to take stuff on, Jin is nervous. Maybe that’s why they’ve kept missing each other somehow, even after all these years, or maybe it’s why they just…work. Even after all these years._  
  
 _Who knows. But now at least they have plenty of time to find out._  
  
 _“Yeah,” Kame says, stroking Jin’s chest over his t-shirt. “We’re going to be fine. And if we’re ever not fine, we’ll figure it out. We’ll do what we have to do. Like we always did.”_  
  
 _Jin looks back up at him and smiles._  
  
Kame just maintains his bland, pleasant expression and takes another sip of terrible coffee, offering nothing further on the subject.  
  
Everything is the same as it always was. That’s all she needs to know.


End file.
